


And in dreams

by wifebeast__s



Series: LA By Night Fluff Fest 2020 [1]
Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, LA By Night Fluff Fest 2020, Sharing a Bed, look ma! I wrote fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wifebeast__s/pseuds/wifebeast__s
Summary: For LA By Night Fluff Fest 2020! Prompt #1: Waking up together
Relationships: Jasper/Eva
Series: LA By Night Fluff Fest 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731382
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	And in dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Just sitting here, posting this during the work day because I wanna participate NOW. #instantgratification
> 
> Special shout out to the truly wonderful people in this fandom who have made me dipping my toes back into the World of Darkness an absolute delight!

When she was still alive, when her heart still beat, and her lungs did the work of inhaling and exhaling, when blood pumped freely through her veins, cold air and warm air had real feelings attached, then she dreamed. 

She dreamed in vivid technicolor, epic stories told to her by her sleeping brain through the dark of night. She dreamed of adventures, mundane and mystical. She dreamed of places, vast and open and wondrous. She dreamed of people, some she knew, some she had seen but never really met. She dreamed of music, dreamed she could ride the waves of the sounds, see the melodies floating in the air before her.

She would wake in the morning, sunlight dappled over rosy skin, vague memories of those bright imaginings still on her mind. When she was alive, she kept a dream journal, years worth of fantastic and bizarre stories from her unconscious psyche held in a series of unassuming notebooks.

For years, decades after Katya took her hand and made her something else, her day sleep was quiet. It was silent, dark and colorless.

There is no streaming sunlight when her eyes open now, but there is a hint of a memory that presses against her consciousness. A dance, she thinks. She stays very still, tries to keep her mind similarly still and open to let the image solidify. 

It comes back, hazy and ephemeral as a dream has every right to be.

Dancing on the grass, under the stars, the observatory nearby. She wears one of her favorite dresses but no shoes, the ground soft beneath her feet. Music drifts through the air, maybe through an open window, or maybe a radio nearby; she isn’t sure, and it doesn’t matter. She thinks it’s summer, the air still and dry, but not brittle like a cold winter evening.

And she’s not alone. Her partner is happy; it’s written on his unique visage with starlight. He holds her close. She knows his touch, recognizes the gentleness of it, a tenderness that is reserved for her. 

The details flutter just out of reach, but they are unimportant. The feeling of the dream stays with her, and it is warm.

She turns onto her side and studies the still figure next to her.

She smiles, hand outstretched, hovering over Jasper’s face, even as she traces its shape. She knows the Nosferatu are cursed, but there is still something beautiful about him.  
The dreams started again when she started sleeping here. She knows it is most likely because of the labyrinth and its secret prize deep within shadow, but that’s of little relevance really. She would not be here in this strange, magical place if not for him.

He is tucked on his side, facing her, so when his eyes open, she sees them and smiles more broadly, by way of greeting. 

He returns it, a soft half-growl, half-chuckle escaping his lips.

“I had a dream,” she tells him, and she is rewarded with his eyebrows arching up in question.

He is quiet in the early hours of the evening, she knows. In truth, he is often quiet, observant and introspective, even when around others. She appreciates that about him.

She rolls onto her back again, hands clasped over her stomach, “We were dancing.”

He hums, and one of his hands covers hers, his long, elegant fingers tapping out a random rhythm against hers.

“In Griffith Park.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, his voice gruff from disuse during the day.

She always likes Jasper, but this is her favorite version of him - relaxed and content, his smile more lazy than fierce.

“You sound surprised, though,” he comments after a moment.

She turns her head to look at him, “It’s been a while since I…remembered my dreams.”

He nods slightly, first agreeing, then more pointed, toward the other side of his Haven, “The labyrinth?”

She unlaces her fingers, freeing them to play with his. They dance in that way for a few seconds, a soft snort of a chuckle coming from her companion.

“Maybe it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Perhaps you inspire me.”

Another growl, and even without looking, she can picture his smile in response to that - charmed, amused, perhaps unbelieving, but no less grateful.

“Perhaps,” he agrees, twining his fingers with hers.


End file.
